


Death and the Maiden

by emmaliza



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Angst and Humor, Betrayal, Complicated Relationships, Dramatic Irony, F/M, Illness, M/M, Multi, Post-Episode: s01e11 Bounty, Prophecy, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:20:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24979087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: Jenna's been accused of a few things in her time, but being told she'll kill the man she might just be falling in love with is a new one.
Relationships: Kerr Avon & Jenna Stannis, Roj Blake/Jenna Stannis, implied Avon/Blake
Comments: 8
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

“How is he?”

Cally sighed, disposing of a sweat-drenched cloth into the bucket of cool water she had by her side. “Much the same as before, I'm afraid. His fever hasn't broken. He's still incoherent, I don't think you'll get much from him.”

Jenna cursed under her breath. _Bloody Sarkoff._ It was to be expected, really, after everything they went through trying to return him to his home planet, he wouldn't think to warn them about any lingering pathogens from his place of exile. They had no idea what was happening until Blake suddenly collapsed on them, and ever since it had been like everything was frozen while they waited for him to recover.

Between them, Blake moaned pitifully. “Ravella...” Who was that? An old friend, or lover? Jenna wasn't sure it was any of her business. Blake was sick, the most important thing was finding a cure, she told herself.

“Do you have any idea what it is then?” she asked Cally, forcing herself not to look as Blake flinched against his nightmares.

Cally hesitated. “Yes. I do.” But she wasn't eager to share the information. Ever since the Amagons came along, the rest of them were wary about her – Blake believed she had never meant to betray them, she was only playing along until she could find a way to rescue them all, but the others weren't so sure. Jenna wasn't even certain they were unjustified in their suspicions, but she did know it was all entirely irritating. “I've been consulting Zen for medical information. He seems to think its Aprasia Lycandoxia–”

“The Altraxian Flu?”

Cally blinked in surprise. “You know it?”

Jenna didn't hesitate before nodding. “It's one of the most common space illnesses going,” she said. Indeed, just about everyone who had left Earth had either had a spell of it, or had the vaccine before they headed off. No wonder Sarkoff didn't think to warn them.

But of course, Blake wasn't much of a space traveller before he was shunted off on a prison ship, and the Federation authorities didn't bother to immunise them before hurtling them into the void – from their point of view, the more of them died of 'natural' causes, which they couldn't be blamed for and meant they didn't have to be responsible for them anymore, the better.

“Oh. I see.” For someone they had picked up lightyears from home, Cally sounded rather unfamiliar with it. “Well in that case, do you know where we should find treatment?”

Jenna sighed deeply. That was a loaded question, perhaps more than Cally realised. “There are many places we could,” she said. “The question is, where is safest?”

* * *

“Calasan IV,” she declared to the assembled population of the flight deck. “It's a backwards place, but what we need grows abundantly in its natural form there. I have old trading contacts I can get it from easily. It's approximately twenty hours away at standard by six, and crucially, far off the Federation's radar.”

Jenna thought she had made a fairly airtight case, though she knew things would never be that simple with this crew. Right on schedule, Avon gave her that sickly grin of hers. “An excellent location, with one small problem.” She fought the urge to roll her eyes. Of course Avon would find fault. “ _We_ are not drug manufacturers. How precisely are we meant to convert this plant they have into an ingestible form?”

Ah. Jenna had been worried about that herself. “Presumably, Zen can provide us the information,” but it seemed less than certain to her.

“Oh, I see, we shall rely on the goodwill of that machine that treats withholding information from us and endangering our lives as its principle leisure activity. You are stepping into Blake's shoes finely, Jenna.”

Jenna glowered at him, while thankfully, Cally intervened. “The Kaeleen plant makes just as effective a remedy when boiled into tea as in a pill, or other such form of medicine,” she said. “We shouldn't need to do more than heat water.” Jenna wasn't sure whether to smile in relief, or to ask Cally why she hadn't mentioned this earlier. Perhaps she thought Jenna already knew. Avon raised an eyebrow at her cynically.

“And that is according to your full medical qualifications, is it?”

Then it was Cally who glowered. “Whether or not I'm fully qualified, I'm more qualified than you.”

Avon bristled, but thankfully (and that was something you didn't say every day) Vila spoke up before he could make a remark they'd all regret. “Er, not to sound insensitive, but do we have to bother going out of our way at all? It's just the Altraxian flu, right? Doesn't that usually clear itself up in a week or so?”

“In ninety-five percent of cases, yes,” said Avon. “The other five, however, can be fatal.”

“I'm afraid Blake's experiences with Federation interrogators may have depleted his immune system,” said Cally, making Jenna grimace. She hated to imagine what they had done to Blake to break him – she had told her captors what they wanted to know quickly and been spared the worst of it, feeling little loyalty to her fellow smugglers, most of whom she barely knew and any one of which would have sold her out to save themselves. But Blake, Blake was fighting for something bigger and grander than himself, than any of them. It must have taken something special – something horrible – to make him forget that.

“If Blake's sick we owe it to him to do anything we can to help him,” said Gan, hands tightening against the console with conviction. “He would do the same for any of us.”

Gan knew that better than the rest of them, with the scar on the back of his neck to prove it. Avon smiled faintly, but didn't say anything. Jenna clucked her tongue irritably at him. “Alright, Avon, you don't like the Calasan plan. Do you have a better idea?”

“A hospital,” he said. “Where Blake can obtain proper medical care from qualified professionals. I believe the nearest one is Hospice–”

“No.”

Avon raised an eyebrow. “I wasn't under the impression that was your decision to make.”

Jenna glared at him. Indeed, it wasn't as if they had any formal chain of command – Blake had just assumed authority on the ship, and the rest of them had accepted that, although she doubted any of them could say why if asked. With him incapacitated, everything was up for grabs. Still, Jenna had taken on the captain's role, and it felt – natural. Enough to make Avon's interventions deeply irritating.

“Hospice is one of the most famous medical planets in the sector,” she said, focusing her attention on the problem at hand. “It will be crawling with troopers. Blake won't thank us if we save his life only to hand him over to Federation goons.” _He'd rather die,_ she did not need to say aloud.

“True. Well, there are other medical planets in the sector–”

“All of which are _days_ away.” Jenna wasn't starting to lose her patience with him. “Unless you think you can stretch this out long enough to see if Blake is going to die, then plant the seeds for your mutiny bid–”

“That depends.” Avon's eyes turned ice cold, and he got to his feet. “Are _you_ planning on luring him into an ambush so your 'trading contacts' can take him prisoner, again?”

For a second, Jenna was struck dumb. She thought, wary as they might be, the others all understood what had happened with the Amagons, that she had never truly meant to betray them.

But of course it was _Blake_ who welcomed her back, who accepted her word about what she had meant to do without question, because he trusted her. And the others accepted Blake's word without question, but that didn't mean they trusted her.

While she was distracted, Avon spoke over her shoulder. “Zen, set a course for the planet Hospice.”

Snapped back to reality, Jenna turned to countermand the order, but before she could Zen said: “Negative.”

Avon frowned. “'Negative'?”

“Course co-ordinates are already programmed.”

Jenna blinked in surprise. “Where to?”

“Calasan IV.”

_Oh_. She struggled to keep back a little pleased smile while the rest of them murmured uneasily. She had some idea what must have happened – as Liberator's pilot she had a connection with the ship none of the others understood, not even Cally. She thought that just as he had taken his name from her mind, he had taken his orders too, perhaps before she said them aloud. She turned back to Avon. “Well, someone thinks it's my decision to make.”

Avon scowled, but he seemed to know he had lost the battle, turning around to storm off theatrically. Before he did, however, he stopped to whisper to Cally. “We ought to be careful,” he said. “If she ever does decide the rest of us aren't worth the trouble, I don't think we can depend on Zen's loyalty.”

* * *

“Are you ready?”

They had arrived at Calasan a few hours earlier than expected. Jenna wouldn't say anything to the others, but she thought Zen must have sensed the anxiety building in her mind, and flown faster accordingly. Still, Calasan was warm and lush, the atmosphere rich in oxygen, so it wasn't the sort of place one had to prepare for too much, except to grab the treasure with which they had to pay.

“I'm afraid I'm not joining you,” said Cally, not moving from behind the teleport. Jenna frowned, surprised. They hadn't really spoken about it, but she had assumed Cally would be coming with her, as their most qualified medical practitioner. Indeed, she had assumed she would be going herself – as she was the one who knew who this damn woman was. “Avon volunteered for the mission.”

Jenna tilted her head to the side, now really confused. “Why?”

After a moment, Cally sighed. “He didn't say, but – I think he wanted to keep an eye on you.”

Jenna recoiled. She knew she shouldn't care, but– “He really doesn't trust me, does he?”

“Avon doesn't trust _anyone_.” Cally smiled at her sympathetically. “You can't take it personally.”

Well, that was a fair point. If this was all because of Avon's faults, then it was nothing to do with her. “What about you?” she asked, to Cally's obvious surprise. “Did you believe I really had betrayed you to the Amagons?” When Cally hesitated, she scoffed. “So that's a yes, then.”

“I wasn't sure,” said Cally, a guilty look upon her face. “From what I sensed in you, you seemed – confused.”

Confused. That made Jenna stop in her tracks. Because Cally was right, she _had_ been confused – not about what she meant to do; she knew from the beginning she meant to rescue them all, even if it took her awhile to figure out how. But what confused her was why. Why risk her neck to save these people? To save Blake? Not a year ago, jumping ship to save her life and get a share of thirteen million credits would have seemed like the most obvious thing in the world. Now, it seemed unthinkable.

What was it she and Tarvin said?

_Have I changed so much?_

_One of us has._

She wasn't confused about where her loyalties lay, even if she was confused about why. Unnerved by her own thoughts, Jenna shook her head. “Well, if Avon wants to come, he'd best get a move on. I'd rather this not take any longer than it has to.”

“Forgive me.” Jenna cursed under her breath as she heard him approaching. Stealthy as a cat, that one. “I spent some time choosing which crystals would best impress your witch doctor. I wouldn't want her to think we were trying to cheat her.”

Rolling her eyes, Jenna let Avon come alongside her in front of the teleport. “Healer,” she said. “Don't call Highli a witch doctor to her face, or she'll claw your eyes out.” Without words, she snatched some of the crystals out of Avon's hand – he didn't trust her not to take the money and run, and so she wouldn't trust him not to do the same damn thing. “She's not the picky type anyway. You could learn something.” Avon gave her a curious look, and Jenna ignored her, turning to Cally who seemed very unsure about this whole thing. “Alright, put us down.”

* * *

When they arrived on the planet it was slightly cooler than she anticipated, past dusk, the sky a muted purple-blue. Avon's leather would keep him warm, of course, but Jenna wasn't going to show the cold affected her. Bird calls echoed hollowly from black tree trunks. “You weren't lying about this planet's climate, at least,” Avon mused. “Life seems to thrive here.”

“Indeed.” He wasn't bothering to hide his suspicions, then. “Why did you come here, Avon?”

He turned to her with an amused look. “What, don't you believe I'm genuinely concerned for our beloved leader's health?”

“Not particularly, no.”

“Good.” Grinning, Avon did not give her an answer, instead staring through the thick mass of trees toward the building on the hill – a dilapidated shack, barely visible in the dying light. “I presume that's where we're headed?”

Jenna nodded. “Indeed.” Cally, to her credit, had put them down with remarkable precision, given how vague she was when giving the co-ordinates.

“Your friend could do with some home renovations.”

That made Jenna snort. “That's Highli. She'd do anything for aesthetics, that one.” She sighed. “Alright, as I said, don't call her a witch doctor to her face. And if she starts trying to tell your future, don't let her, else we'll be there for hours. Alright, let's go.”

Perhaps it wasn't necessary to give warnings at that precise moment, given the fifteen minutes or so they spent trudging toward the shack, but by the time they made it up hill they were both so out of breath Jenna was grateful she'd thought to say anything that needed to be spoken aloud beforehand. She pushed the door – Highli rarely locked it; she was looking for clients and few were brave enough to steal from her – and it swung open with a dramatic creek. “Hello?” she called, voice echoing off the cold stone walls.

“Who dares enter the home of the Great Highli?” a voice boomed low and serious at her, as Avon shut the door behind them. “You know not the powers you meddle with. Best you run now before–”

“Highli, it's me,” Jenna snapped in the middle of the dramatic monologue.

Suddenly a flickering candle popped up from the end of the hallway, bringing into view a short, plump older woman with long, tangled grey hair (Jenna knew she used product to keep it artfully tangled like that, because she'd run the product to this planet herself). “Jenna?” The candle was placed aside onto a bookshelf, as Highli came running up to give her a hug. “Oh, I didn't think we'd ever see you again. I heard you'd been picked up by troopers, after some run-in with the Terra Nostra – never liked the Terra Nostra, bunch of snakes the lot of them.”

Perfunctorily, Jenna hugged her back. “Indeed.” Then she remembered Avon was right by her side, watching this reunion with bemusement. She coughs. “Erm, this is Avon, my – colleague.”

Avon nodded in, by his standards at least, politeness, while Highli blushed him up and down. “Handsome,” she grinned. “But you always did have a good eye, didn't you Jenna?”

Stupidly, Jenna found herself blushing. “We're not – _anyway_.” Her personal life was hardly any of Highli's business, one way or another. “I'm afraid this isn't a social call. We need something from you. Kaeleen. Our friend has come down with the Altraxian flu, and we're not sure he'll survive without treatment.”

“Oh, well, any friend of yours is a friend of mine.” Highli waved her hand dismissively, then bared her teeth like a wolf. “If he can pay, of course.”

In sync, she and Avon thrust their handfuls of treasure forward, and Highli blinked as it glinted in the low light. “Why,” she looked up at Jenna with a smirk, “you have found quite a treasure, haven't you?”

“Yes, it seems she has,” Avon snarled, himself losing patience with this old woman and her way of talking around things. Jenna could sympathise. “Now I suggest you take your payment, before–”

“Your friend dies?” Highli tittered to herself. “Oh, no. No, this will not be what kills him.” As she saw Highli's eyes rolling back in her head, Jenna sighed. _Oh, here she goes._

“I see – beauty. A flying beauty, with bouncing blonde curls.” Jenna blinked. Well, as descriptions of her went, that was rather more flattering than the Federation arrest warrant's rather prosaic words. “I see – someone cold, and hard, and – in love. Yes, so terribly in love.”

Jenna and Avon shared a look, while Highli carried on. “I see – betrayal, mistrust... misunderstanding.” She cackled to herself. “Yes, that will be what kills him.”


	2. Chapter 2

“How is he?”

Cally, having enough trouble supporting Blake's body weight while trying to lift the green, steaming liquid to his mouth, seemed a little annoyed to have them watching over her, assessing her work. “He's improving,” she said. “Unfortunately, since he's mostly unconscious I have some trouble getting him to swallow. But I'm managing.”

“An avoidable problem,” Avon commented, perched in the corner of the room watching everything with a steady gaze, “if we had found him proper medical attention, and not a potion from a witch doctor.”

Jenna glowered at him. “Yes, well, we're here now,” she said. “The medicine seems to be having the proper affect regardless, so I don't think we need to worry about that right now.”

“Not about that, no.”

She flinched. They had described what happened on Calasan IV to the others – that they had teleported to the planet, met up with Jenna's contact, gotten the cure and paid for it, then left. No fuss, no drama.

They hadn't mentioned Highli's little prophecy. What would be the point? Jenna knew Highli, how she could entertain herself by spewing nonsense perfectly formulated to prey on people's nerves. She always thought she got on rather well with the other woman, but perhaps the crystals they brought to trade weren't as valuable as they thought.

Still, ever since they returned Avon had been insufferably odd. You'd think he'd be the last person to believe in prophecies, and if she _were_ planning on killing Blake he'd be first to sign himself up as her accomplice, but no, he didn't seem to be making any deals. He was just... watching her. As he was now. When she'd gone to visit Blake he had, without a word, followed close behind, although she'd be a fool to think she could get away with anything with Cally right there. It was driving her to distraction.

Suddenly Blake started to cough, and Jenna instinctively got to her feet to help. Avon did the same.

“It's alright, Blake.” Cally patted his back until he settled down, and now he was a little more conscious, returned the cup to his lips. “You have to drink this, it'll make you better.”

Blake took another gulp of the liquid, then pulled a face. “Don't care much for the flavour,” he said, and smiled to himself, as if at some private joke.

Avon gave an odd little half-smile as well. “Another problem that could be avoided with proper medical treatment,” he said.

Cally glared at them both. “Listen, if you two aren't going to be helpful, you might as well leave. I'd rather he avoid as much stress as possible, for now.”

She and Avon both took a step back, rebuked – Jenna didn't think entirely fairly, given she'd hardly said anything at all. Still, she'd been lurking about in the medibay long enough. They would want her on the flight deck if they suddenly had to make a run for it.

Jenna left first, with Avon right behind her. They turned to face one another awkwardly, then he gave her a brisk nod, before pivoting on of his leather-clad heels.

“Avon!”

He stopped when she called out to him, leaving her to hesitate over what it was she wanted to tell him. She was tempted to reassure him – he didn't have to worry about her and Blake, she had no ill-intentions, Highli must have just been playing with them for some reason. But why should he believe her? Wouldn't trying to defend herself just make her look guiltier? More to the point, why would Avon care what she meant to do with Blake, one way or another?

“What is it?”

Jenna averted her eyes. “Nothing.”

Avon looked annoyed, briefly, that she'd taken up yet another five seconds of his time. As he slunk off, she felt no shortage of irritation herself. She already knew it would be a struggle to win their trust back. _This_ wasn't going to help.

* * *

“Are you sure you're alright?”

Jenna woke to the sound of voices rumbling in the corridor, and crept to her feet catlike, pressing the mechanism that would open her door the slightest amount with the least noise. It probably wasn't necessary, but suspicion was an old habit.

“For the fifth or so time, Cally, _yes_ , I'm alright.” _Blake._ He was awake again then, and well enough to be arguing with Cally. “I just want to sleep in my own bed, that's all.”

Jenna poked her nose through the gap to Cally nodding, but still looking rather unconvinced about the whole situation. Her arm was wound around Blake's back, offering him (perhaps largely symbolic) support. “Right. Well. The medibay isn't far, and if you need anything–”

“I _know_ , Cally,” said Blake, eyes sparkling with affection. “Thank you.”

She nodded and let him go into his room, still stumbling a little as he walked. Jenna waited until the door had slid shut behind him before she stepped into the open.

“ _Is_ everything alright?”

Cally jumped, which surprised her – Jenna had always assumed Cally would just know when anyone was creeping up on her. “Jenna!” she gasped, but quickly quietened herself down – presumably she didn't want Blake to overhear them gossiping. “Yes, everything's fine. Don't worry.” At Jenna's raised eyebrow, she sighed. “Blake's recovering well. Well enough, in fact, he insisted on returning to his own quarters, even though I told him I'd like to keep him in the medibay for at least another day or so. You know what he's like.”

Jenna couldn't keep back an affectionate smile of her own. Indeed, she knew what Blake was like, and his diehard stubbornness was as endearing as it was exhausting. “I see you're taking good care of him, then?”

“Only with what you gave me.”

An awkward silence fell between them, and Jenna felt like she had levelled an accusation without meaning to, and without believing it was true. Of course it was natural Blake felt a special connection to Cally – she was the only one of them who joined in his cause because she believed in it, rather than as a convicted criminal with nowhere else to go. In many ways, she was the only one of them he could really trust. She was sure that bond was nothing more than platonic on either of their parts, and even if it wasn't, what business was it of hers? _Don't be jealous, Jenna._

Oh, who was she fooling? What had Highli said? _Someone cold and hard, and – in love._ Who could that be other than her? She'd been avoiding the word, avoiding the reality of her situation, even as every day spent with Blake seemed to leave her more bound to him, the reality of her world rewritten into sheer devotion.

She never really thought about selling the others out to the Amogans. That fact bothered her. A year ago, even if she hadn't actually done it, she would have at least considered the idea. She wasn't stupid.

Jenna shook her head, not wanting to be having these epiphanies in the dead of night in a dark, empty corridor. “Right, well, if everything's under control, I'll head back to bed. Goodnight, Cally,”

“Goodnight,” said Cally, seemingly puzzled as to why Jenna had bothered at all. Just before she could open her door however, Cally called out to her: “Wait, Jenna.”

Jenna looked back over her shoulder to see the other woman hesitating. “You've done well, you know. You've saved his life twice in as many weeks. I'm sure Blake is grateful.”

That made her blink. She wondered who was keeping count.

* * *

“So, what do we do now?”

It was a good question. Jenna, once they left Calasan, had instinctively put the ship into the path of a common space route, far from Federation territory, somewhere they could fly for miles and not be bothered. But that wasn't doing anything, that was just giving them time to work out what they were going to do.

Vila was the one to pose the question, to a general disconcerted murmur from the rest of the flight deck. Jenna looked at Avon, expecting him to have something to say – he usually did – but when he just blinked at her, she sighed. “I don't know,” she said, remembering only after the fact that she had, somehow, commandeered the captain's position, and it was her decision to make.

Of course there were lots of things she _could_ suggest they do. Places to pick up goods and places to sell them – she could have done that on Calasan, but now they had left she wasn't eager to go back. She was falling into old smugglers' habits; she doubted the others would be interested anyway. Perhaps the reason they all followed Blake wasn't simply because of his force of personality, but because he was the only one of them with _purpose_ , some reason for running that wasn't just staying alive and wherever possible, making money. Without him they'd be little more than a bunch of space pirates, hardly better than the Amogans.

“Your capacity for sudden decision-making seems greatly lowered when Blake's life is no longer the issue at hand,” Avon mused beside her.

Jenna glowered at him. She didn't need this now. “I'm sorry, do _you_ know where we ought to go?”

“No.” Avon rubbed his palms together. “But I'm not the one who helped myself to captain's chair.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. _Not yet._ In her peripheral vision, she saw Gan and Vila give one another a wary look, while Cally carried on observing in that especially Cally way of hers. “Someone has to,” she said, quietly. “Do you think Blake would trust you with my ship more than he would me?”

“Perhaps not. But should he?”

_Blackmail, is it?_ Jenna kept her eyes locked on him, daring him to speak it aloud, to explain to their captive audience just why he was circling her like a vulture at a carcass. Of course, he wouldn't do it. To tell them he was worried because of some old witch doctor's prophecy – it would sound absurd. He couldn't take the slight to his pride.

While they were busy arguing with their eyeballs, an extra set of footsteps approached the flight deck to join them. “What's going on here?”

“Blake!” Jenna couldn't help breaking out in a grin when she saw him up and about – still a little sweatier than usual, but apart from that, no worse for wear.

Avon smiled too, but his was considerably less sincere. “Ah. Nevermind, Jenna. Your temporary authority has been suspended, as our beloved leader has come to reclaim his rightful place.”

Blake looked back and forth between the two of them, bemused, by Jenna's eagerness (which she just now realised was getting out of hand) and Avon's inevitable sneering. “Is everything alright?” he queried.

“We were just discussing where we ought to go next,” Gan supplied helpfully.

That made Blake nod, and shoot Jenna an amused look, as if to say _well of course that had you bickering._ “So what are the options?”

“Er, we didn't actually get that far,” Vila said. “Jenna and Avon were too busy squabbling over who got to make the decision, with you out of capacity.”

Jenna felt herself turning pink with embarrassment, while Avon, infuriatingly, remained as stone-like as ever. “I see,” said Blake, rubbing his bottom lip with one finger. “Well, I picked up some signals from sector 9 before I fell ill, I suspect the Federation may be laying more surveillance there. Seems as good a direction to head as any.”

And like that, Jenna was imprinting his instructions into Zen, while Avon leaned forward in curious eagerness. “So as I thought, you are simply going to carry on where you left off. You are not, for instance, going to ask us whether we discovered anything important while you were incapacitated?”

Blake raised his eyebrows, refusing to be moved. “I presume that if anything had, you would tell me immediately.”

Avon frowned slightly. “Quite.”

Jenna felt a little sick, while Vila, relieved to have their captain come to them from on high and impart a solution to their impasse, got to his feet. “Well, good. To sector nine we go. You know, I'd complain about walking into another suicide trap, but nothing could be as scary as those two at each others' throats.”

By 'those two', he of course meant Avon and Jenna, and he, Gan and Cally all shared a little titter as they exited the flight deck. Jenna quickly went through the mental roster of who was actually on watch, and realised it was Avon. Blake was still looking at them with puzzlement, and Jenna averted her eyes, wondering how to explain all this – and what she actually wanted him to know.

“Jenna has performed remarkably in your absence,” Avon said by way of explanation. “I've found her almost as unbearable as you are.”

While Jenna shot her head back over her shoulder to glare at him, Blake laughed. “Well in that case, I rest assured my ship is in good hands.” He reached out to squeeze her forearm – a totally platonic gesture of affection, but still. “I might go get some more rest then. God knows Cally will have words if I don't. Try not to murder each other, you two.”

Jenna watched him stride off deck, before Avon cool voice piped up from behind her: “That was very well acted, you know.”

She closed her eyes, exhausted with the conversation before she'd even had it. “What was?”

“The 'loyal second-in-command, only stepped into the breech because you weren't there' routine,” he said, rising from his chair with a theatrical flourish. “Yes, if I were Blake I would trust you entirely. Of course, that isn't saying much. If I were Blake I would trust almost anyone.”

She realised he was coming up to her, and raised her head to meet his eyes before he arrived. “For god's sakes Avon, I have _no_ intention of harming Blake,” she said. “If you're so worried, you tell _him_ about it. Tell him you want to force your only qualified pilot off-ship because of what a witch doctor from the arse end of the galaxy told you. I'm sure that would make sense, coming from Mr. Rationality.”

Avon's flinched slightly. He knew she had a point – his suspicions of her were totally unreasonable. Soon he turned on her, raising a knuckle to his mouth, and Jenna watched him from behind. “Perhaps I'll do that.”

Jenna huffed with annoyance. Childishly, she thought this wasn't fair. She hadn't _done_ anything. “I don't see why you care anyway. You've never pretended to feel any real loyalty to Blake.”

He looked back over his shoulder at her. “You're right, I haven't,” he said. “But it would be a shame if someone else stabbed him in the back before I got the chance.”

She scowled at him. “Go to hell, Avon.”

He grinned. “Oh, undoubtedly.”

* * *

“Vila, what are you doing in my room?”

He jumped, apparently having not seen her coming – which she didn't believe from a man of his skills, suggesting he wanted her to catch him. “What, me? Nothing,” he said, drawers still hanging open. “Just having a good old-fashioned stickybeak. You know me, can't keep out of trouble for nothing.”

She rolled her eyes. “What have you taken?”

“...Nothing important.” He tossed a couple of trinkets her way, and she was surprised to realise he was right – they were jewels she'd taken from the Liberator's treasure room; valuable, sure, but they weren't _hers_ and so she couldn't really bring herself to care about them. “Just keeping my skills sharp, that's all. I'm a professional.”

“Right.” It seemed reasonable – if Blake kept him around for his talent at stealth and thieving, he'd best remain talented. Still, it was brave of him to risk stealing from one of his crewmates, unless he knew she wouldn't actually do anything about it. “Well, at least someone on this ship still trusts me,” she muttered.

She hadn't quite meant to say that aloud, and she looked up to see Vila giving her an uncomfortably sympathetic look. “Avon bothering you, is he?” he asked. “Look, you can't let him get to you. I think he took that whole Amogan thing badly – people like you and me, even if you had sold us out, I wouldn't have taken it personally. No honour among thieves and all that. But sorts like him, who've convinced themselves they don't trust anyone – well of course they trust _someone_ , that's just human nature. But they don't realise until they think they've been betrayed, and that makes it hurt worse than it would for anyone else. He'll get over it. Just give him time.”

Jenna sighed. Yes, that made sense to her – Avon was never the creature of pure rationality he liked to present himself as. “So, I have to suffer for the rest of eternity because of his trust issues?” Vila shrugged, and she frowned. “Vila, can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“If I _had_ meant it,” she said, tapping her nails anxiously against her thigh. “If I really had sold you to the Amogans. What would you have done?”

He blinked. “Dunno,” he said. “Kept my head down and tried not to get killed, knowing me. See if I could cut my way in on the deal. Why?”

Jenna smiled faintly to herself. She wasn't sure she believed that, but nevermind. “I didn't really mean you specifically. But the lot of you, as a collective. If I really had betrayed the crew. What would you do?”

Vila flinched, which really was answer enough. “You know, some things aren't worth thinking about.”

They would have killed her, of course. She knew them all well enough to know none of them had much patience with traitors, especially not Blake. _Blake._ He had believed her when she told him she'd been on his side all along, but what if he hadn't? What if he wanted her dead? What would she do?

A year ago, fighting anyone came for her would have been the easiest thing in the world, but now it wasn't. Now hurting Blake seemed unthinkable, even if the only other option was death.

_A flying beauty, with bouncing blonde curls._ Jenna wanted to laugh to herself. _'Twas beauty who killed the beast._ Vila could clearly see some of the thoughts racing through her mind, and frowned in concern. “Jenna, are you alright?”

She shook her head. “Fine.” She'd been fine for a long time, and prided herself on remaining so. “Just tired, that's all. If you're quite done with my things...”

“Oh, right. Of course.” Awkwardly, Vila shuffled away, before she called out to him:

“Wait, hang on, Vila!”

The diamond choker flying through the air took him by surprise, but Vila's reflexes were good enough he could catch it anyway. He took a second to examine the gems wrapped around his wrist, then looked back up at her. “What's this for then?”

Jenna shrugged. “A token of goodwill?”

That made him grin, still clearly confused, but not willing to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Well. Cheers.” Then he left, abandoning her with her own existential crisis. _Brilliant._

* * *

Without instructions otherwise, Jenna just kept following the schedule she would on any other day, and that meant showing up when it was her turn to perform watch, as per usual. Normally the exchange of watch-times was a quiet affair, but now she heard raised voices from outside the flight deck, and stopped to listen.

“Loathe as I am to contradict your assessments,” that was Avon, of course, sneering sarcastically as ever, “I think you could place a little more value on information warning you that someone you have allowed to occupy a position of power on this ship might not be trustworthy. I know you are fond of Jenna, but–”

“But _nothing_ , Avon,” Blake snapped at him, clearly already wary of his conversation. “Jenna has proven her loyalty time and time again. More than you have. I'm not going to accuse her because of a few words from some self-proclaimed prophet – and I would have thought you more reasonable than that.”

_Damn. He actually did it._ Jenna wasn't expecting that. She thought she knew Avon well enough to know he would play the percentages, and realise the risk of humiliation, of looking foolish and paranoid and like he actually cared whether Blake lived or died, far outweighed the likelihood Blake would listen to him.

Avon knew that, and chose to warn him anyway. Why?

Anxiety swelled in her gut before she fully processed what Blake was saying. Avon huffed irritably to have his concerns dismissed. “Fine. I suppose if you want to entrust your life to whoever comes along, that is your business, but I don't want to be concerned of conspiring if – _when_ – she turns against you.”

“Duly noted,” Blake commented, blankly, and then Avon stormed off in a sulk.

He seemed surprised to find her waiting outside the door, eavesdropping, but showed no hint of shame, simply raising his eyebrows at her. So she did the same, on both counts. “Well?” she asked.

Avon frowned at her. “You heard. I've done my best to warn him. My conscience is clear.”

“So you have one, then?” she smiled faintly, which he did not return. “I know you're not going to believe this, but you can trust me.”

“Yes, well, I would prefer proof of that,” he said. “But I'm not sure it matters. If you did do anything to Blake, I doubt the others would let you get away with it for long.”

“And that would be perfect for you, wouldn't it?” she asked. “With the both of us out of the way, the Liberator would be yours for the taking.”

That made Avon smile. “Indeed.”

As he started to walk away, Jenna watched him go, and felt an odd twinge of sympathy. Then she remembered she was still due on the flight deck, and so entered to find Blake watching the screens with a serious expression, staring out into the stars ahead.

“Blake?”

He smiled when he saw her. “Ah, Jenna,” he said. “Avon and I were just–”

“I heard, Blake.”

That took him by surprise, and Jenna sighed deeply. No use pussyfooting around it now. “I thought he might, after what happened on Calasan. I must have done something to deeply annoy Highli, for her to cause me all this trouble.”

Blake gave her a sympathetic look, but he still had further questions. “And this Highli,” he said, “you're the one who knows her. Do you think there's any reason to take her prophecies seriously?”

It would be easier if she could just lie outright, but– “Highli's like any so-called prophet. Half of what she says is nonsense, and what does come true, it never comes true in the way you expect.”

“In that case, nothing to shake my faith in you.” Blake tapped a finger against smiling lips.

Jenna was starting to feel a little embarrassed. “Well, of course I would like to think so,” she muttered.

He hummed at that, but said nothing else, and Jenna couldn't help staring in curious irritation. _Betrayal, mistrust, misunderstanding._ She wondered if all of this would be less of a worry if Blake could just tell them what he was thinking.

“Blake, you _do_ trust me, don't you?”

“What? Of course.” He seemed surprised she would even need to ask. “You know that.”

Jenna hesitated a moment, before sighing deeply. Yes, of course she knew he trusted her – and she knew he could trust her, because she couldn't never leave him behind, no more than she could leave behind herself. Perhaps Avon was right, perhaps they should have left at Cygnus Alpha. Perhaps, without realising it, she had passed up her last opportunity _to_ leave. Now she was in too deep – she was as much his prisoner as she had been on the London, and she would be until the day she died.

She laughed to herself. _Well, I can't be the death of him if he'll be the death of me first._


End file.
